


The Piece to the Puzzle

by starkerscoop



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Assassin Peter Parker, Dark Peter Parker, Dark Tony Stark, Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Death, Mob Boss Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26324482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkerscoop/pseuds/starkerscoop
Summary: Prompt: request about Tony stark being the most feared crime lord of new york city and he meets Peter parker, an ex famous assassin and sniper who now owns a bar in queens
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 22
Kudos: 310





	The Piece to the Puzzle

“I’m going for a drink,” Tony informed his guards tersely, “Don’t follow me.” 

He slammed the car door behind him and revved the engine, peeling out of the hidden parking lot behind the warehouse. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he sped through the unusually barren roads of New York City, anger sparking in his chest as his knuckles turned white from the strength of his grip. 

Another failed operation. Those were becoming far too frequent for Tony’s liking. His plans never went wrong; they were carefully crafted and carried out. 

There was a mole in the Mob, and Tony would have to dig it out and deal with it personally. The rat had foiled plans that would have earned him millions otherwise. It would pay for that dearly. 

Tony glanced out of his tinted window, checking his surroundings with a vigilance that never went down. He’d ended up somewhere in Queens whilst raging through the streets, mind clouded with an anger that made his hands tremble where they were still gripping the wheel. 

The buildings around him were all shrouded in darkness, most of the tenants likely asleep by then, if not all. The only light he could see was coming from the flickering letters on a bar window, spelling out Spider Shots in dark blue and menacing red. 

Tony patted the gun at his hip, making sure it was loaded and sitting snugly in its holster before he got out of the car. The weather was frigid and unforgiving, so Tony hurried across the street and swung open the heavy door to the bar. 

It was nicer than he’d expected it to be after seeing the poor exterior. Low music sounded from the speakers in the ceiling, just quiet enough to both be listened to and spoken over. The atmosphere was warm and glowing, the lights emanating a golden hue that had Tony’s shoulders relaxing just a smidge. Men and women muttered to each other at clean tables, glancing around every once in a while to ensure that no one was listening in on their conversations. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. Those tattoos looked familiar; he squinted at a group seated in the far corner of the bar, but alas, he was too far away to make out any details. 

He made a beeline for the bar countertop, where he could get closer under the pretense of wanting a drink. When he stopped in front of the counter, a man turned around with a rag in his hands, wiping them and slinging it over his shoulder. 

“What can I get you?” the man asked easily, leaning forward. 

Tony scanned the bottles behind him with a cursory look. “A scotch on the rocks.” 

“Alright,” the man smiled and pulled out a clear bottle.

Tony took a quick look at the group in the corner while the man worked. Everyone in the group sported matching tattoos, a thick, green snake that curled around their arms. A symbol for the Romanoff Clan, known for double crossing and spying on other mobs to benefit their own. 

“Sir?” the man prodded, holding out the drink, “You don’t need to pay. You came just in time for Happy Hour.” 

Tony forced his eyes away from the Snakes and grabbed the glass out of the man’s hand. Just as the man was pulling his hand away, Tony caught a glimpse of a dark tattoo of a spider crawling up his wrist. 

“Thank you,” Tony said distractedly, still focused on the ink, “That’s an interesting choice for a tattoo.”

The man rubbed his wrist with fond fingers, tracing the spider’s outline, “I wanted something that would go with my rep.” 

“Rep?” Tony lifted a brow dubiously. 

The man didn’t seem offended, only grinning knowingly at the doubt, “Peter Parker, at your service.” 

“Oh?” Tony brought the glass to his lips, pouring the amber liquid down his throat to hide his surprise, “So this is what the most famous assassin in the United States does in his free time?”

Peter shrugged, “I’m mostly retired. I wanted to keep up with the gossip, though, and a bar seemed like the best option. Everyone comes here for a safe space. They talk, and I hear it.” 

Tony nodded slowly. Peter Parker would be a good ally to have. Smart, talented, and in on everything going on. “I’m guessing you know who I am.” 

“I do, Mr. Stark,” Peter agreed, brown curls falling into his face when he looked down, “I gotta say, I’m surprised you’re here. I thought you had a deal in Manhattan.”’ 

The fury that had dwindled down when he entered the bar flared back to life. “That shouldn’t be common knowledge.” 

“Someone came in three days ago talking about it with the Snakes,” Peter informed him, “They said that he’d be able to join them once they ruined your deal.”

“So, if I went and checked his arm in, say, two days…” Tony began. 

“You’d find a tattoo.” Peter finished, smiling.

Tony set his glass on the bar with a quiet clink, glancing once more at the Snakes huddled around a table. They hadn’t noticed his presence so far, and he wanted to keep it that way. He had to leave soon. 

“I feel obligated to thank you for helping me,” Tony said languidly, “Let me take you out.” 

“I hate to ask this,” Peter voiced apologetically, “but take me out with a sniper or take me somewhere to eat?” 

Tony snorted, “Somewhere to eat, unless you'd prefer the former.” 

“I had to check,” Peter laughed along, eyes shining, “You never know in our lives.” 

Tony hummed in agreement and slid his phone out of his pocket, “Give me your number and I’ll set up a date.” 

“A date?” Peter’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Or a casual outing, if that’s what you want.” Tony waited for his answer with bated breath. Idly, he wondered why Peter’s answer mattered to him so much. Or why he was setting up a date. If he wanted someone, he usually brought them home for a night and got rid of them. 

Peter stuffed his hands into his pockets shyly, “A date would be nice.” 

They exchanged numbers, and soon Tony was slipping out of the bar, his exit going unnoticed by the Snakes. For a group that boasted about its attentiveness, they sure showed none of it. Tony drove home at a much safer speed than the one he’d gotten to Queens in, using the time he spent driving to think about what he was going to do with the mole. 

All deals and operations in the near future were postponed, the new dates known only by Tony. The mole would have nothing to report back in the meantime, and Tony would be able to find it. 

He called in every single member of the mafia, those in respected positions and those at the very bottom of the barrel. He locked everyone in the same room and ordered them to leave their weapons outside of it. They followed his instructions uneasily, lining up as if waiting to be shot by a firing squad. 

“What’s going on?” Rhodey asked him, arms crossed over his chest. 

Tony sincerely hoped he wasn’t the mole. He’d gone through a lot with Rhodes, and the betrayal would sting more than any other. 

He waved him off, “Just go stand with everyone else.” 

Once everyone was ready, Tony clapped his hands in the silent room, getting them to shift their focus to him. 

“It’s come to my attention that we have a rat in our midst,” Tony announced, and immediately, people started to eye each other suspiciously, “All of you must roll up the sleeves of your shirts. Failure to comply will result in automatic death.” 

All but one started hastily tugging up their sleeves. A blond man -- Steve Rogers, Tony recalled -- hesitated before slowly moving his sleeves and stopping at his elbows. 

“They need to be rolled up as far as possible, for anyone too idiotic to figure that out on their own,” Tony called out, steely gaze watching the blond move his sleeves the rest of the way up with weak hands. 

Rogers stood with a resigned face, eyes shutting as the new snake branded on his skin was revealed inch by inch. 

“Take him to the basement.” Tony commanded, and his guards scrambled to grab the protesting man, who stubbornly dug his heels into the ground and refused to move. 

Tony rolled his eyes and cocked the gun at his hip, not bothering to aim when he pushed the trigger and let the bullet fly. It sank into Rogers’ thigh, and the blond yelped loudly, stopping his fight as he attempted to check on his injury. Once he was taken out of the room, Tony turned to face everyone else, checking each arm and relieved to find them all bare. 

He made them all leave and went to his office, sinking into his plush chair with a bone-weary sigh. Rogers could wait. Tony had a date to get to. 

Peter looked like an angel sent down to make everyone else look bad. He was wearing fitted black slacks that accentuated his ass, and Tony could feel the beginnings of arousal stirring in his gut. He had a dark maroon blazer slung over his lithe frame, and it fit a bit too snugly, showing the outline of his muscles. 

“Hey,” Peter greeted, a devilish smirk showing that he’d caught him staring. Perhaps not as much of an angel as Tony thought he was, then. 

“Hey yourself,” Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders, “I got the mole, by the way. Steve Rogers.” 

“What are you going to do to him?” Peter peered up at him curiously. 

“Not sure yet,” Tony murmured, when an idea came to mind, “Do you want to have a go at him? Get all of your frustrations out. It’s a great stress reliever, really.”

“I’m not a big fan of torture,” Peter declined, then perked up and twisted from under Tony’s arm, facing him with excitement building in his eyes, “but it  _ has _ been a while since I got to snipe anyone.”

“Wouldn’t want to get rusty,” Tony nodded, a smile flickering on his lips. 

They stopped at a deli that Peter liked, the younger man claiming that it served the best sandwiches in all of Queens. It was a quiet place with only one man at the counter, who seemed to recognize Peter as soon as he saw him. 

“Pretty Parker!” the man exclaimed, arms opening wide to pull him into a hug, “It hasn’t even been two days.” 

“Be grateful you have a loyal customer,” Peter scolded playfully, stepping out of the embrace after a couple of seconds, “Where’s Mr. Delmar?” 

“He’s sick,” the man said regretfully, “Will you have the usual?” 

“Oh, I hope he gets better,” Peter frowned, “Yeah, the usual.” 

“I’ll get the same thing he’s having,” Tony cut in, somewhat annoyed at going unnoticed. 

The man nodded and got to work, putting their sandwiches together with a swiftness that betrayed how often he had to make them the way Peter had them. When he finished, they paid and left the store, walking side by side to the nearest park. 

“Pretty Parker?” Tony furrowed his brows, feeling a tiny sting of jealousy strike his heart, “How’d you get that name?” 

“I used to work at Delmar’s, and people would ask for my number or flirt with me to try to get things for free. The guys started calling me that, and it stuck.” Peter explained, biting his sandwich with a happy sigh. 

Tony nodded, and the date went on. They walked around the park for hours, going in endless circles as they spoke and got to know each other. For the first time in his life, Tony found himself interested in being with someone. His feelings had always stopped at lust, but Tony realized with a jolt that it didn’t matter to him if Peter didn’t end up in his bed that night. He just wanted to spend time with him. 

He didn’t want to leave even as the moon climbed higher. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, Peter looking ethereal in the moonlight, and Tony’s heart calm in a way it wasn’t with anyone else. 

The time came, though, and Tony got to have a kiss when it did. Peter had fisted his sweater in his hands and pulled him down, lips colliding with his in the softest kiss Tony had ever received. They stayed like that for several minutes, dragging out the moment and thus their goodbye.

Tony went home feeling giddy. It was an unusual feeling, bubbling up in his chest and making his heart beat faster. He couldn’t wait any longer to see Peter again, so he called him the day after their date. 

He calmed his excitement and took care of Rogers all in one go, leaving the traitor with bruises and shattered bones. By the time he was done, the blond looked more dead than he did alive, but he let him go anyway. Rogers was left to walk free, looking like he couldn’t believe his luck as he scrambled out of the front door. 

Tony watched him leave from the window on the second floor of his mansion, anticipation thrumming in his veins. The blond scurried down the street and stopped abruptly, catching his breath. That pause was all it took -- a bullet shot down from one of the nearby rooftops, and pierced him in the head. Rogers crumpled to the ground, and Tony beamed proudly at his lover’s hidden figure. 

He had a feeling that he’d found his soulmate.


End file.
